A Match Made in Bed

by Cathy Maxwell

  Cassandra scanned the letter. “She doesn’t sound happy. She said the announcement has been made and then he disappeared.” She looked up. “He did that one other time. He attended the Marquis of Devon’s rout and then seemed to vanish.”

  “Yes, when he was enjoying Letty Bainhurst.”

  “You knew where he was?” she asked.

  “Apparently, he owns a hunting lodge that is good for clandestine meetings.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want Willa to marry a man who can’t love her. She deserves better. In fact, we all deserve better.”

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I am so blessed.” She frowned at the letter. “I’m thankful you are in my life or I could have been in a marriage like this.”

  “No, you would have been shuffled off to a miserable spinster’s life. I saved you.”

  She laughed. “And I saved you from marrying a true heiress.” She held up the letter. “You could have offered for Willa.”

  “And I would not be half as happy as I am now.”

  She had to run over and give him a kiss. “Well said,” she whispered in his ear. “And this sort of marriage is what I want for Willa.” She still held the letter. “If the duke was going to disappear, why did he go through the motions of making an offer to her?”

  “I just hope his disappearance doesn’t involve Letty again.”

  “That is two of us. Poor Willa. What shall she do?”

  “Become a duchess. Camberly needs her money.”

  “But he may never be faithful.”

  “She will still be a duchess.”

  “That is not enough,” Cassandra declared. “I’m going to write and tell her as much. But first, I need to call on the vicar.”

  “Mr. Morwath, why?”

  “I asked him if he had books he could lend us for the school and he said he had several that his children no longer enjoyed. He has offered to donate some of them.”

  “Excellent.” He was already returning to the task of listing the grain purchases. It would be nice when the day came that they could hire a steward to manage the details for him.

  She kissed the top of his head and left the room to gather her bonnet and driving gloves.

  It was a warm August day. The drive to the rectory would be enjoyable. Logan was out riding with Toby, but she had become rather handy with the reins and drove herself places in the pony cart.

  An hour later, she reached the parish church. Mr. Morwath was in the back of the rectory cutting the limbs off an overeager hawthorn bush. He was a tall man with stooped shoulders. Every time Cassandra saw him, she always thought he appeared overwhelmed by life.

  She could also commiserate with the difficulty of his gardening task. She’d had a time cleaning out the beds around Pentreath. She’d done it herself since there were no servants to spare for such a task, save for when Mrs. Branwell found a moment to help.

  She parked the cart and tied up the pony.

  The vicar came out to greet her. “How is everyone at Pentreath, my lady?” he asked. With a wave of his hand, he invited her into his home.

  “Pentreath is fine. And how are your wife and children?”

  “Mrs. Morwath is at market day in the village. She enjoys her time there since two of our daughters usually meet her and they have a time of it.” He had several married children and a host of grandchildren. “And how is Lady Dewsberry? Did I hear that she is out of town?”

  That was the good news. Arabella had been a glum presence until she had written to her brother in Hertfordshire inviting herself for a visit. Over the weeks since she had been moved to the dowager’s cottage, both Cassandra and Soren had made efforts to call on her several times a week. Each call was met with her stiff disapproval.

  However, when her brother had said she could visit, and Soren agreed to hire a decent coach and provide pin money, her attitude had been what some might call happy. Soren swore he’d seen the inklings of a smile upon her face.

  “I hope she returns a changed woman, my lady,” Mr. Morwath said.

  “I agree, Vicar.”

  He led her to the cramped space he used for his office. She remembered it well from her childhood. Books were piled everywhere. Just as she’d done as a child, she sank down to the floor so she could plunge into them.

  Cassandra said, “My favorite part of the week was calling upon you and borrowing another book.”

  “Many of these are going to waste. Take what you like. None of my children became strong readers. Not like you.”

  “What of grandchildren?” she asked. “Won’t you want these for them?”

  “My hope is that they will attend your school.”

  She smiled. “Then that is my hope as well.” As she went through the books, she shared with him the stories she and Logan told each other. “Even my lord is taken with our tales.”

  The stack of books beside her began to grow.

  “I would like to hear Lord Logan tell a story sometime.”

  “We should invite you and Mrs. Morwath over for dinner. We have been so busy we haven’t been able to entertain but the time will come.” She looked at the pile she was building. “I admit I’m greedy. Many of these bring back memories of what was happening in my life when I read them.”

  “After your mother died, I always hoped they would give you some solace, my lady.”

  “They did.” She smiled at him and opened a book of Aesop’s Fables. “This was a favorite. And I’m taking so many, I must pay for them.” She would as soon as she received her money.

  “I don’t ask for payment. The parish has needed a decent school for a long time. I’m pleased that you and your husband are taking an active interest in the area.”

  “As we should.”

  “Aye, you grew up here.”

  A thought crossed her mind. She hadn’t intended on going in this direction. However, he was someone she trusted. She closed the book on her lap and said, “May I discuss something that has been weighing on me?”

  “Of course. I’m available to you, my lady.”

  She looked up at him, realizing that he would be the first person to hear her secret. And then she realized she had already confided in him many a time before. When she would visit to borrow a book, she would share how much she missed her mother, and sometimes talk about Helen and her stepsisters. He’d always given her encouragement and sound advice.

  “MP Holwell is not my true father.” She paused a moment to reflect and then said, “There was a time when saying those words aloud would have caused me great distress. Now, thanks to my lord’s loving support, this is really nothing more than a statement of fact. And yet, I sense I should feel something.”

  His brow furrowed, his expression grave. “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. Sadness. Regret. Relief. I do wish I knew who my real father is. Or was.” She looked up at him. “He could be dead as well. I hardly remember my mother.” She touched the pearl she wore on its ribbon around her neck.

  “You are very much like her.”

  “You knew her?” He’d never said as much. “I thought you came to the parish after she died.”

  “Actually, I had met her at my last posting. I tutored her.”

  This was new information. “Just like you tutored me?” He had come to Lantern Fields and taught her some lessons. “That is an interesting coincidence. And a fortunate one.” She ran her thumb along the spine of the book. “My lord said that there might be someone around here who knew Mother and her secrets. That I might someday discover who my father is.” She raised her gaze to him. “Would you have an idea?”

  A look crossed his face. There was no mistaking that it was regret. She expected him to kindly tell her no.

  Instead, he took the book from her and held her hands to help her up. He sat her on a stool so they were almost at the same level.

  “I have a confession of my own, my lady. I ask you to hear me out, but first, I must beg you to please not judge your mother harshly
.”

  “I would not.”

  His watery blue eyes met hers. “You are as sympathetic as she was.”

  “Please, tell me what you know.”

  “I’m your father.”

  It was a stunning admission. At first, she didn’t believe her ears. He nodded as if to confirm the words.

  She’d had no idea. And Cassandra didn’t know what to say.

  “I loved her,” he said. “Passionately. She was so bright and lovely. Caring. All the things you are. Of course, I was married and already had three of my children.” His wife was a stern woman.

  “You and my mother had an illicit romance?”

  “ ‘Illicit’ is not the right word. I’ve always regretted what happened between us. It was not her fault. I was the weak one and she paid the price. But I loved her.”

  He squeezed her hand. “My lady, I realized my sin. No matter how unhappy I was in my marriage, I had betrayed my vows and I wanted to be right with God. I told your mother I must not see her again. I did not know she was carrying you. She never told me, and then her father up and married her to Holwell. When word came that she’d had a child, I knew just from counting the days that Holwell could not be the father.”

  “Did you take the living here to be close to her?”

  “No, I took it to be close to you. Your mother wrote me a letter about how ill she was. She told me about the living here. I grabbed it. Your mother died just days before I arrived. We didn’t even have the chance to speak to each other. I officiated her funeral.”

  He loosened his hold on her hands and sat back. “However, it has been my good fortune to watch you grow into a graceful, intelligent woman. And now, I must ask you never to speak of this to another soul.”

  Cassandra was stunned by the entreaty. “I don’t know how I feel about that request. We’ve known each other a very long time.”

  “Oh, we can have our friendship, but I would not hurt my poor wife any more than I already have.”

  “Did she know about you and Mother?”

  “I don’t know, but I do carry a weight of regret in my heart. I love my children, my lady. I have found peace in my marriage. It is unfortunate that I married the wrong woman; however, I doubt if Elwood Bingham would have let Pen marry a village priest.”

  Pen. Her mother’s name had been Penelope. Cassandra had never heard her referred to by a nickname, by a lover’s name.

  Nor did she know what she would do with this information Mr. Morwath had just shared.

  “Do you understand what I am asking you, my lady? To keep this between the two of us? I’m trusting you with this.”

  “I will share with Soren. Have no worry that he will bandy it about. But I cannot bear this secret alone.”

  “I do not wish to have him think ill of me. What happened between your mother and me may sound tawdry to the outside world, but it wasn’t. We were in love. It made complete sense to us. It was the very best my life has ever been.”

  Cassandra stood. She needed Soren. He would help her sort this out. She held out a gloved hand.

  “Mr. Morwath—” She could not call him Father. “I thank you for telling me. I now understand why you made sure I had books to read.”

  “It was a way of reaching out to you.”

  “A good way. If you will excuse me, I believe I should leave.”

  “Do you want me to carry these books out for you?”

  “I might have to come back for them,” she answered, needing a bit of space from him to reason through his confession.

  “I make no claim upon you, my lady. I’ve actually waited for the day when I could tell you. You have heard that Lantern Fields was to be sold?”

  “Sold?”

  “Aye. They say that Holwell is done up. Apparently, paying your inheritance has left him broke.”

  Should she lie? No. She was done with lies. She spoke her truth. “I didn’t receive an inheritance, sir. MP Holwell spent it unwisely.”

  “We all wondered.”

  “If only I had been that aware—” She stopped. “No, my life is exactly as I would wish it. I pray whoever purchases Lantern Fields will be good people.”

  “That is a good wish, my lady.”

  It would also mean she need never fear having her path cross with Holwell’s. “What will become of him?”

  Mr. Morwath shrugged. “He’ll stay in London until his term has ended and probably retire here or someplace else.”

  “He’ll go someplace else,” she predicted. The man who had pretended to be her father was too proud to humble himself after such a downfall.

  He walked her to the pony cart. “I will keep the books you chose ready for when you need them.”

  She nodded. In the past, she’d always shaken his hand before she left. She didn’t know what to do now.

  For the first time, she noticed the resemblance between them—the height, the eyes, the set of her mouth. Why, she even looked very much like his daughter Beth, whom she had seen at services from time to time.

  He answered the question for her. He leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek as if in benediction. Without a word, he turned and walked back around the rectory to resume his task of conquering the hawthorn.

  She drove home, her mind somewhat numb . . . and yet, she had a sense of finally feeling complete. The truth could do that.

  The stable lads took the pony cart from her. She was most anxious to find Soren, but she noticed a strange horse in the stables. “Do we have a visitor?”

  “Yes, we do,” the head lad said. “A lone rider. My lord knew him well.”

  Soren might have been familiar with the guest, but he had not been expecting him. He would have said something to Cassandra.

  She marched up the path to the house. She took the back entrance so that she could speak to Mrs. Branwell and Cook before presenting herself to her husband and their guest.

  Logan was in the kitchen eating a bun fresh from the oven. She stopped, watching him, her heart full of love.

  He caught her eye, and popped the last of the bun greedily in his mouth, unabashedly grinning with satisfaction—and in that moment, she silently thanked Mary’s spirit that lived in her son. Logan was a gift in Cassandra’s life and, in honor of his mother’s memory, she would do all in her power to nurture his proud independence. She wanted to believe that is what her own mother had wanted for her. Gentle, loving guidance. She was thankful for what Mr. Morwath had been able to offer her.

  Mrs. Branwell was happy to see her. “Lord Dewsberry wishes you to meet him in the library.”

  “And what of our guest?”

  “I have taken him to his room. Lord Dewsberry said he will be here for several days.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A Mr. Ewing.”

  The name meant nothing to Cassandra. She headed for the library, untying the ribbons of her bonnet as she went.

  Soren was at his desk, counting a stack of gold coins.

  At the sight of her, he rose and raced to greet her. He lifted her by the waist and swept her around the room with such energy, her bonnet fell to the floor. He stopped at his desk. “Look at them. Do you know how much is there?”

  Cassandra had to catch her breath. She pulled off her driving gloves and picked up one of the coins. It was thin but heavy. “Where did you find these?”

  “Mr. Ewing delivered them.”

  “Our mysterious guest?”

  “A man in my employ. My business partners in Upper Canada sent these. They are my share of the earnings of our investments. The shipping company is still alive and well. In fact, Mr. Ewing believes we will survive the war. The trading post and store continue to grow. I knew I had the right location for them. My partners sold some of the land we had purchased. Cassandra, how many books would you like to buy? A dozen? Ten dozen?”

  Her response was to the throw her arms around his neck, and the two of them hugged each other tightly with relief. Their fortunes had just changed.

  “I
was hoping for some luck,” he said, “but I never expected this. We are going to hire a steward and we’ll build a building for your school and buy sheep and cattle—this is what we’ve needed, Cass. According to the letter my partners sent with Ewing, we should only grow.”

  She looked at him. “So, you really didn’t need to marry an heiress.”

  “No, I needed to marry you.”

  And in that moment, she knew the money had never mattered. Not to Soren and not to her.

  Nor would the vicar’s confession have any impact on her life. Who she had been was of no importance. It was who she chose to become that gave her life meaning.

  And that choice was this man’s wife.

  They had each other and a future bursting with possibilities. And life was exactly as she could wish it.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  I believe the only hallmark of a good life is how well I love and how well I am loved in return. Love is all that matters. Money will come and go . . . and if I am not careful, so will love. It is a precious thing and must be recognized and valued.

  But then you know that.

  You are like me. You believe love isn’t an illusion.

  I don’t know why love is not easy. We all want it. Many of us have searched most of our lives for it. Some have found and nurtured it while others have tossed it away. And there are too many of us who have discovered that what we thought was love turned out to be the exact opposite. We’ve nursed our broken hearts, but hopefully not broken spirits.

  Cassandra and Soren have found their magic. Their love strengthens them.

  Or perhaps the two of them are so stubborn, they won’t give up. They will go on through thick and thin, and there is a grace to that as well.

  Yes, Cassandra will have many children. In fact, she is already pregnant. She just doesn’t know it yet. But I can share that secret with you.

  And what of Willa? She’s to be a duchess . . . but will she find love? You know that answer, and I think you’ll “love” her story.